Chapter 11 - Cade
There are two kinds of silence in a house.
The first is the easy quiet of belonging; the soft, warm hush of a home when its people move through it with ease and connection.
The second kind is the silence that tends to have teeth.
The kind made up of everything unsaid, every impulse bitten back out of pride and fear.
Mara and I have been living in a strange mix of the two ever since we slept together when she was in heat.
I wouldn’t call it awkward, not exactly.
After that night, the one I spent with her writhing against me, her heat in the air so thick I could taste it, after I claimed her, I expected things to be simpler.
At least physically. Instead, it’s like we’ve both signed an armistice that neither of us really trusts.
She moves through the house in a way that’s almost feline.
She’s careful, silent, and always on the lookout.
She doesn’t flinch away from me anymore, but she doesn’t engage, either.
I think what happened when she came into heat shocked her, and she’s still feeling the effects.
I can’t believe she’d never been with a man before, but I’d be lying if I said my wolf wasn’t happy about it.
Most days, she’s camped out in the library or the kitchen, draining my coffee supply and reading her way through every book in the house.
She’s sitting at the island when I close my laptop and go looking for her.
The morning sun catches the red in her hair, making it look almost unreal.
Her face is a mask of concentration, eyes locked on her tablet, fingers curled around a mug.
She doesn’t look up until I’m close enough to see the ghost of a bite mark on her neck, which I know is my doing, and the sight of it slices me open just a little.
She sees me looking and gives a tiny, defiant smile, as if daring me to mention it.
I can’t quite shake the feeling that I’m a bastard to have taken her innocence when I’m so much older and so far from innocent myself. My wolf doesn’t give a damn, though. If anything, he just wants more.
I pour myself a mug and lean against the counter, arms crossed. “You planning to finish all the coffee in the county before noon?”
She shrugs, but the corner of her mouth pulls up. “I like the ritual. Reminds me of being a kid.”
There’s a story there, but she’s always careful to give me just enough to keep me wanting the rest. I wait, but she doesn’t add anything, just taps the mug and lets the silence fill in the gaps.
I almost admire her discipline, her refusal to spill anything she doesn’t want to.
There’s nothing childish about her silence.
It’s calculated, and I realize she’s not the lost stray I brought back with me at all; she’s capable and intriguing. And distractingly beautiful.
I want to ask if she’s still planning her escape, or if she’s waiting for me to do something worse than keep her here. But I don’t. I know if I press her, she’ll just shut down again. Instead, I say, “We’re leaving in an hour. Get dressed.”
She looks up, startled. “Leaving? Like, outside?”
“Alliance meeting out at a diner we use. I’m not leaving you here alone, and I doubt you’d want my betas watching you, so you’re coming with.
” I try to sound casual, but it’s not a request. I need her with me.
Not just for her safety, but because I don’t trust anyone else with her.
Her heat has broken, but I can still scent the aftershocks, and I wouldn’t leave her alone with another male right now, even the ones I trust. My wolf won’t allow it.
She holds my gaze for a second, and something flickers across her face.
Fear, maybe. Despite everything that’s happened between us, I still can’t get a read on how she feels about shifters.
She says herself that she’s not a hunter, despite living with them, and she doesn’t appear to share the same zealot-level hatred that I’d expect from the Order, but there’s so much she’s not saying that I have no idea of her feelings toward us—unless you count her reactions in bed when I’m buried deep inside her.
The visual that follows takes me by surprise, and I feel my wolf surging, reaching for her.
Her heat is over, but my wolf still feels the same, almost overwhelming urge to take her again and again.
I realize I’m staring and force my wolf back down.
When I focus, I notice that her eyes look slightly glazed again, too, and I’ve no doubt she’s thinking similar thoughts.
It’s a heady feeling, but also disconcerting, because I’ve never experienced anything like this before.
I’m not sure it’s supposed to be like this.
“Go get ready,” I say, my voice sounding rougher than I intended, but I need to break this spell and get a grip on myself.
She nods and walks down the hallway to her room, leaving me standing there, wondering how I’m going to explain any of this to the alliance without them thinking I’ve gone soft or lost my mind.
I drive us in silence, taking the switchbacks fast enough to make the tires complain, but Mara doesn’t flinch.
She sits with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the world blurring past the window, the way you do when you’re trying not to betray how your stomach is tying itself in knots.
She’s dressed in black jeans and a clean white T-shirt with her old jacket over the top.
She looks like she could pass for any pretty city girl hitching a ride to the mountains, but the set of her jaw and the pale tension at her temples says she’s steeling herself for a fight.
I watch her from the corner of my eye as the pines thicken, the road narrowing to a single lane of cracked asphalt. She hasn’t spoken once since we left the house, and I know I should say something, but I can feel the tension coiling between us, and I get the feeling I’ll make it worse if I try.
When we crest the last rise, I finally break. “You always just lived in cities?”
She shrugs, but I notice her hands are clenched. “On the outskirts. Nothing like this; the whole area feels like a movie set.” She doesn’t look at me, but her voice is steadier than I expected. “You could bury a dozen bodies out here, and nobody would ever find them.”
I bark a laugh. “That’s half the appeal.”
She lets the joke settle, then asks, so quietly I almost miss it, “Who’s going to be there?”
I think about it for a moment. “The alliance, just the alphas, and maybe their mates. Willow, because she understands the stuff in that report better than anyone.”
That snags her attention. “Willow’s a scientist?”
“Mhmm. She’s the only one trying to figure out the volva magic and how it all ties in with our heritage. Why the hunters are so interested. That kind of thing.”
She’s quiet for a long stretch, then: “You think it’s true? What the report said about me?”
I don’t answer right away. I want to say I don’t know, but that would be an insult to both of us. I can scent the truth in her as easily as my own blood. “I think you’re special,” I say, and the word lands heavily between us. She doesn’t react, but I feel the weight of it.
I get out and walk around to open her door; she seems surprised, but old habits die hard, and I was brought up right.
As she gets out, I see she’s shaken off the nerves I glimpsed in the truck, and instead she’s wearing a mask of calm indifference.
I’ve seen her do it before, but now I realize it’s something she does consciously, something she’s good at.
I suspect this isn’t the first time she’s walked in somewhere terrified but looking ice-cold.
The instant Mara steps over the threshold, I feel the change ripple through the room.
All the alphas scent her, the way her omega markers have shifted since the heat, the way my scent is all over her.
Brooks’s nostrils flare, and he smirks at me.
Alder raises an eyebrow, and Kaiden’s gold eyes flick between Mara and me in open speculation.
Rowan says nothing, but the way he tracks Mara’s every movement is unnerving.
Willow is the first to greet Mara. She takes her by the arm with a gentleness I think Mara wasn’t expecting. “Coffee?” Willow asks, smiling in a way that puts Mara at ease almost instantly.
“God, yes,” Mara says, and lets herself be led to the table.
Kit is there too, already pulling out a chair.
“Sit with us,” she says brightly, crowding in next to Willow and making a show of pouring Mara an enormous mug of coffee.
Mara looks at Kit, then at Willow, like she can’t quite believe anyone is being so nice to her.
She relaxes incrementally, her shoulders unclenching, her face softening in profile as she takes her first gulp of coffee.
She doesn’t notice me watching, but I can barely look away.
I don’t even make it to the booth before the other alphas clock what’s changed. Brooks goes first. “Well, well,” he says, grinning over the rim of his mug. “Someone’s been busy.”
He leans back, elbows wide, and gives me a look so knowing I want to deck him.
Alder doesn’t say anything, but he goes still, eyebrows up, waiting for me to confirm or deny.
Kaiden just watches Mara carefully, his gold eyes lit with an open curiosity that makes my hackles rise.
I catch myself bristling and force it down.
Mara looks reasonably settled with Willow and Kit, and I hear snippets of conversation about the blood chemistry and Willow explaining volva magic.
Mara’s voice is starting to sound a little lighter as the women begin trading stories about city life versus pack life.
It’s so normal I forget, for a second, what she is. What she might be.
I slide into the booth, back to the wall, so I can keep Mara in view. Rowan watches me, his hands folded neatly, eyes fixed on me. “You want to get ahead of this, or should I guess, too?” he asks, voice perfectly neutral.
“She went into heat,” I say, low. There’s no point pretending otherwise; they can all smell it. “The other day.” I don’t add that it nearly broke us both, or that I’m still not entirely right in the head. I just watched Rowan take it in, his expression unreadable.
“That settles any doubts,” he says. “She’s omega.” He glances over at Willow, who gives a little nod. “I take it she really didn’t have any idea?”
“None,” I say. “But the report you sent over was dead on. It was like flipping a switch. I caught something off with her scent at the hunter's compound, but it only made more sense when the heat really kicked in. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Alder grunts, “She looks human. Doesn’t even register to my wolf as pack, just…other?” He says it like it’s a question, but I have no answer for him.
“Maybe that’s the point,” Brooks chimes in, scratching his chin. “Order couldn’t figure out what she was either, right? Maybe she’s the first of a new thing. Or the last.”
Rowan ignores Brooks and looks at me. “How’s your wolf?” The question is simple, but I know what he means. Can I control it? Her scent is so different, and I can see that the other alphas sense it even though they have mates and won’t act on it.
I don’t answer right away. I feel the urge to look over at Mara, but I don’t. “He’s…settled. For now.”
Brooks lets out a snort. “He’s settled because you claimed her, man. You smell like you rolled in her heat for a week. I can barely taste my coffee.” He says it with a laugh, but there’s something sharp underneath it. Alder, for once, just sips his coffee and says nothing.
“We need to assume the hunters know what she is, too,” Rowan says, growing serious.
“We know they did blood tests, and the way they handed her over was…strange. Her scent is off, and so are the test results. Willow’s working theory is that the Order may know that an omega can destabilize shifters, distract them, perhaps make them overlook an obvious plant… .”
My eyes lock with his. “You still think she’s a plant?” I ask, my gut twisting.
Rowan spreads his hands on the table, shrugging. “That’s to be determined.”
Just then, Mara laughs at something one of the other women says, and I feel my wolf’s immediate reaction: calm, soothed, connected.
Lying, yes. Confusing, yes.
But not a plant.